I’m going to be doing the Blog All About It blog challenge by herding cats & burning soup . If you like to blog, it’s not too late to start!

So, luck’s for March, is it? Okay, then.

Four leaf clovers

I can’t find them. I’m not that person. I’ve met those people, but I’m not them.

Pennies, heads or tails

I don’t believe it’s bad luck to pick up a penny that’s landed face down (tails) – it’s money. I don’t care how it’s landed. A coworker used to say, “It all adds up.” And it does.

Black cats

Incredibly lucky if you’re loved by one. Perhaps less so if you have the misfortune to be on their bad side. My black cat, Shadow (almost Midnight, occasionally President Shadow, inspiration for Inky), is adorable and fluffy and sweet and I really can’t imagine that it could ever be bad luck to have him in my life. He is the only one I’ve had to take to the vet since getting fixed, though. Hmm…

Broken mirrors

They’re bad luck if you get glass in your foot, so please avoid them.

Ladders, walking under

That’s just a bad idea. It’s bad luck because something is likely to fall on your head, or you’re going to nudge the ladder out of its precarious balance, and someone is going to fall on your head. Don’t do it unless you’ve really got no other safe choice.

Salt, spilling

I hate bugs, so I’m not tossing salt over my shoulder if I spill it in the kitchen on the off chance that it attracts undesirables. Nope. Not gonna do it.


Never did anything to hurt me, so I’m fine with it, too. Friday the 13th is a lovely day and is occasionally a family member’s birthday. Can’t go wrong there. I didn’t always feel that way, though. I have been superstitious about the number in the past.


I never particularly had any kind of affection for the number 7 as a lucky number, although my grandmother did. My lucky number is 42-7, sometimes written as 427, for no particular reason.


Well, if you do believe horseshoes are lucky, make sure you hang them right side up above your doorway so the luck doesn’t spill out. (That’s in a “U” shape, not a “n” shape.)

Rabbit’s foot

Not very lucky for the rabbit, is it? I used to think they were lucky, except when I realized they were actually rabbit feet, I got a bit grossed out. The Monkey’s Paw may have had something to do with that.

1 Comment

  1. Yay, fun post!
    My grandmother has that clover skill. 4? Ha! She’s picked 5, 6, 8, even an 11 leaf cover. Has them saved in wax paper. No idea how. All just from our yard.

    🐱 Kittens are never bad luck. They are warm snuggle purr purr. Meow. *paw down*

    I bought a rabbit’s foot, a green one on a keychain, from the Santa store that came to our elementary school once a year. I thought it was just a soft thing. And I really thought people were lying to me when they said it was an actual rabbit. I’m like “okay, and my teddy bear is a real bear…” Ummm… And that’s why I started to wonder if my toys came to life at a much later age than normal kids. Because I was 10 or 11 when I found out that foot was actually real and then I started to question everything. Was my mink blanket real? The fur stole my aunt let me borrow? The rabbit skin decoration on my dresser that was super soft? YES. To all of this. And you know who finds this story highly amusing? Laughed his freaking ass off when I told him? Tears from laughing so hard? Yeah, that’s right, the Native American guy I hang out with. Who never questioned these things because he knew since childhood. Never had that separation between things living and things at the store. And at first I was like “omg that’s too much violence for a kid to know!” But then I realised, or he pointed out, that this store disconnect thought wall really isn’t that old. All of my grandparents knew it, saw it, or helped do it as children. (Two grandparents grew up on farms. My grandfather who died last year was the male head of the house when he was 12 or 14 or whatever. He had a mom, two brothers, and a sister to feed. There was no Wegman’s, nor money to go to one if it had existed.)

    Mind blowing how fast things change. Our grandparents didn’t have sliced bread, know what was in an atom, and were impressed by Ford’s assembly line cars. We can buy sliced bread at all hours in multiple flavors, have nuclear weapons, and have stacks of old cars just sitting around. Our grandchildren will probably have space bread grown in a pouch, teleport by un and reassembling atoms, and have spacecars. Or be in a dystopia with no bread, live in a wasteland of mutation from nuclear war, and learn to hotwire old cars after converting them to solar power.

    Meh. Guess the next two generations could really use some luck.


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